


Leaving flowers on your grave

by crystalspectres



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fake Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Langst, conspiracy/cover up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalspectres/pseuds/crystalspectres
Summary: This, this here is what she’s been terrified of for the last two weeks. Two men in uniform with mournful faces, standing at her door. She doesn’t have to answer it to know why they’re there. It’s obvious, but she doesn’t want to believe it.in other words, what happened on earth after Lance left?





	Leaving flowers on your grave

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to a cover of Gone Away the entire time I was writing it

Rosita is a strong woman. She has faith that her children are just as strong and just as capable as herself. She believes in them. This doesn’t mean she won’t worry about them.

She tries not to at first, it’s just a couple missed calls. Lance will call back soon it’s only been a day. He’s so busy with school. That’s probably why he hasn’t called anyone at home lately. She won’t push it. She leaves a voicemail.

Three days. Three dozen attempts to reach him. Three failures. She’s not calling because she’s worried, pssh of course not. No, you don’t get to ignore your Mother, Lance. What if this was an emergency? She calls again.

A week of silence. Lance has never been one to ignore her or the rest of the family. She’s had all of her children text him and call him but there was no response.

“Maybe he just lost his phone?” her youngest, Sophia suggested. Right, that must be it. Everything is fine. She’ll call Hunk, surely he can reach Lance. They’re best friends after all.

Hunk doesn’t pick up. Don’t worry, she tells herself. It’s late. The Garrison has a curfew, right? They’re probably in bed. She’ll call again in the morning. They’re fine.

A week and a half, and Rosita is starting to truly panic. She called the Garrison but the information they gave her wasn’t helpful. Told her that he was in the middle of a simulation that couldn’t be stopped. Rosita demanded that they have him call as soon he gets out. He doesn’t. So she calls again.

 

Two weeks of radio silence. There must be something terribly wrong, Rosita can feel it. Lance wouldn’t brush her off if he knew she was calling his school. He’s always worried too much about her, feels like he has to protect her. This isn’t something he would do. There must be a reason. if they won’t get him to contact her then she’s going to go there herself.

She calls her oldest, Marco, into the room. Asks him if he can stay for a couple days while she’s gone just to help out. Buys the plane ticket online and heads upstairs to pack her bags.

Rosita tries not to think of what must have happened but all the fears she’s been trying to bury are filling her mind. Gory scene after gory scene. She’s startled out of her thoughts by her son, laying a hand on her shoulder. God how did he get this tall. She thinks, looking up at him.

“Thank you, Marco.” Rosita squeezes his hand gently. “It’s no problem, Mom. Don’t worry so much, he’s going to be fine,” He says with a reassuring smile. Rosita doesn’t believe him but she appreciates the gesture.

Marco lets out a puff of breath, looking around the room at the mess his mother made in her distracted packing. “Here, Mom. Let me help you with this, You just calm down.”

He reached for the clothes she haphazardly tossed in the bag, attempting to help but Rosita pushed his hand away. “No, no, no. I can handle this just fine, thank you.” “Ma-” Marco was interrupted by the sound of a firm knock at the front door.

“Mama! There’s guys at the door! Do you want me to get it?,” Her youngest shouts from the bottom of the stairs. Rosita’s anxiety spikes but she tries to not let it effect her. It’s probably nothing. “No, Sophia. I’ll be down there in a second.”

Rosita takes a moment to straighten herself out, ignoring the sound of them knocking again. She fixes her dress one last time and walks out of her room.

The click of her heels stops half way to the door. She can see the men through the glass on the living room door. Her breath escapes her.

This, this here is what she’s been terrified of for the last two weeks. Two men in uniform with mournful faces, standing at her door. She doesn’t have to answer it to know why they’re there. It’s obvious, but she doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are you gonna open it?” Sophia asked from the couch, leaning over the armrest to get a better look. The question snapped her back to reality. Yes, of course. She can’t just stand there. She schools her features and opens the door.

“hello ma'am, I’m Officer Jordan, this is Officer Morris. Is Mrs. Rosita Mcclain, home?” The shorter one asks. He looks so young it makes Rosita uncomfortable. “Yes, that’s me.” She doesn’t miss the look of pity cross his face.

“You might want to sit down, Mrs. Mcclain.” She can feel the tears already welling in her eyes at the implications. She ignores the suggestion, pushing forward. “Can I ask what this is in regards to?”

Jordan frowns but can take the hint. ”I’m sorry Mrs. Mcclain. Your son, Lance was found dead last night.” He says it so calmly, it doesn’t feel real.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong Lance.” She gets out through broken breaths, leaning heavily on the door to support herself. Tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “That- It can’t- My son is fine.” She knows he’s not. Has known for awhile but it’s one thing to know, another thing to be told to your face your son is dead. She can’t believe it.

Rosita slips down to her knees, clutching the doorknob till her knuckles turn white. She can’t breath, can’t see. All there is blackness and sirens in her ears. “He’s fine.” she whispers out. Shallow breaths turn into broken sobs. She feels like she’s choking on it. Gasping for air.

She doesn’t register anything happening around her anymore. Not her son running over, wrapping his arms around her and demanding more information from the officer. Not her daughter dropping the phone she was pretending to use while she eavesdropped. Not even her husband coming home and helping Marco move her to the couch,the officers following behind them.

When she comes back to reality her body is shaking and there’s a cup of coffee sitting in front of her. “How did it happen?” she asks quietly, finally looking up at the officers again.

Jordan explained it before when she first broke down, so Morris decides to explain it this time. “Your son and two of his friends stole a small aircraft from the Garrison. We believe it was to practice sense the school said they were continuously struggling with the flight simulations.”

Morris sighs, running his hands over his knees. “They crashed pretty bad. No one made it out.” Rosita shook her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like something Lance would do, are you sure it’s him?”

Jordan nodded, taking over. “Their dental records match up. It’s him.”

“I just,” She stops, taking a shaky drink of her coffee. “I don’t understand any of this.” Her husband, Jorge rubs her back softly. “is there any way we can see his body, just to make sure?” he asks them.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Morris says, looking uncomfortable. “When they crashed everything went up in flames. I’m sorry but you wouldn’t be able to recognize him. It’s better you don’t have to live with that image in your head.”

Rosita let out a choked noise. Her son burned alive. He must have been in so much pain. She can’t stop picturing it. His skin melting and burning. Bones and muscles becoming exposed. Her son screaming for help. She needs to stop but She can’t.

Marco looked pointedly at Jorge. He nodded quickly. “Thank you, to both of you, for coming here and informing us but I think it’s time that you both left.” Jorge stated, voice polite but firm.

The officers rise and shake their hands. “I’m sorry we had to.” Morris says. Jorge smiles sadly at Morris and thanks him, walking them to the door.

Rosita looks over at her daughter, Sophia sitting in the recliner. this entire time she hasn’t looked at anyone. Just stared at the ground. Her face hard like stone. The only sign she had listened to anything was her small hands shaking rapidly as she tried to hide them in the long sleeves of her giant sweater. A gift from Lance, Rosita remembers.

She’s trying so hard to be strong for them and it cuts Rosita. “Come here, Sophie.” She calls. Sophia shakes her head quickly, biting her lip to try and control herself.

Rosita opens her arms and calls for her again. “Come on, Sweetie. Come here.” Sophia lets out a small noise, and gets up. Her movements slow until she reaches her mother, falling onto her, breaking down. Rosita pulls her in tight as her daughter’s body is wracked with sobs.

She clutches her mother so tight it hurts but she can’t stop. It doesn’t feel real. How could Lance be dead. How could he leave her like that. He promised to be there for her when she finally got into the Garrison just like him. He was supposed to come back this summer and they would travel the states. He promised.

He can’t do anything if he’s dead.

Four hours of phone calls and five drinks later, Rosita is switching between total numbness and agony. She hasn’t drank like this sense her divorce. Jorge is handling picking up their other children. Marco agreed to still stay and help. He’s such a good child.

She’s ashamed, he’s been so strong. She’s the parent. She should be the one holding them up but God forgive her, she can’t. 

“Sophia, I’m gonna go upstairs for a minute, okay?” She tells her daughter, from the kitchen. She’s still trembling, tripping over her feet on the way up. She can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the grief. Probably both.

She stops at the first door on the right. Beautiful pictures of beaches and smiling faces plastered all over it. Stars of varying sizes and colors decorating the empty spaces between them. 

She want’s to open it, feels like she has to. Her hands brush against the doorknob. She stops, stepping back. She can’t do it. Looking in there feels like looking at him. Feels like finality. 

Instead, Rosita carries on to the end of the hall, and steps into her room, shutting the door behind her.

Slow, unsteady steps to her bed, she collapses on it, and she screams. It’s a loud, wretched sound, her voice cracking and breaking with the force of it. She feels weak, brittle like crumbling stone. 

She doesn’t stop until her voice is raw, and her throat torn apart. 

 

Once they picked a funeral home for the wake, and Lance’s body is moved, Rosita doesn’t leave his caskets side except to eat. When she does leave, her mother stays there in her place. Never leaving Lance alone. 

The funeral is the hardest part. Watching her sons and her husband carry his casket. Watching them lower him into the ground as the priest spoke. Laying down the first rose. 

She shouldn’t be burying her son. It should be her in that casket. She’s lived her life but he’s so young. Was. Was so young. God he doesn’t deserve this. Only seventeen. Every thought is a crack in her attempts to compose herself but how could she be composed? 

They’re starting to put in the dirt and she wants to scream at them to stop. Wants to jump in there and open the casket. See him alive again. But that’s never going to happen. Her son is dead. 

Hot tears stream down her cheeks, as she covers her mouth trying to hide her gasps for breath. She feels like she hasn’t stopped crying in days, wonders how it’s possible she still has tears left in her.

She’s so wrapped in her pain she almost misses the hushed sound of her children arguing. 

“I’m just saying, it’s weird.” Marco whispered to his eldest sister, Veronica. “If they died that night then why was he missing for two weeks, Vee? And why did the Garrision say Lance was in class that morning if he was dead? It doesn’t make sense.” 

Veronica sighed. “He probably lost his phone, Marco.” He shook his head. “And hunk lost his phone too? I don’t think so. Plus the Garrison has been dodging Mom’s calls sense the start, even hanging up on her.”

“So what? Are you saying this is some kind of cover up? I miss him too, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would they do that?” She asked, quietly. 

“i don’t know, Vee, but I’m gonna find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's so short! Honestly this was painful to write but in a good way. I love writing the Mcclain family so much. 
> 
> I really hope you guys like this, you can also find me on tumblr @respectpidge


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